RUTHFULLY YOURS

February 19, 2011 was the 66^th anniversary of the initial beach landings in the epic Marine battle for the tiny island of Iwo Jima on February 19, 1945. A Dallas group, Daughters of World War Two, sponsored an incredibly touching and poignant historic event at the Majestic Theatre in downtown Dallas. At the intermission of the afternoon event, I was standing beside one of the numerous World War II veterans that were honored at the event and he commented, “This is like a family reunion.” And that it was. Women, whose fathers or grandfathers served in WWII, formed their organization just last year and this was their inaugural event to honor their fathers, members of the aptly-named “Greatest Generation”, and their brave and courageous service in the cause of world peace and security.

Dallas Mayor Tom Leppert was present as was his wife Laura, whose father fought at Iwo Jima. Deborah Guerriero co-chaired the event with Mrs. Leppert. The program had three sections. The first was a presentation and book signing by James Bradley, the author of the celebrated book Flags of Our Fathers, which was also made into a successful movie. The story preserved his father Jack Bradley’s story as one of the six men who raised the flag on Mount Suribachi, an incident captured for posterity and immortalized by photographer Joe Rosenthal. Bradley delivered an emotional tribute to his father, a Navy Corpsman, and the five Marines and their lives after the flagraising.

The second segment of the program was the most emotional, gripping, and compelling as each of fourteen Navy and Marine veterans of the battle related thoughts and reflections on their recollections of their involvement in the battle. They were each asked to relate what they most remembered from those heartrending days so long ago. Their anecdotes were punctuated by tears, laughter, and frequent applause from the audience. Their collection of stories was an incredible overview of the battle. They ranged from the sailor who before the actual landings inspected close to the shoreline to ensure the absence of coral reefs which would have ripped open the bottoms of the landing craft transporting the Marines in the assault landings; the naval aviator who flew thirty aerial bombing missions over the Japanese positions; the sailor who described the pressures of the constant loading and reloading of the big Navy guns to maintain a constant barrage on the enemy positions; the Marine who carried back to the beach the body of his best friend; the Marine who came upon his Marine buddy, who had his back to the enemy and was buried in the sand up to his mid-section, but who actually was dead because the lower part of his body had been blow away; the Marine who related the sadness of seeing so many of his friends killed; the Marine who said, upon viewing the flag flying gloriously over Mount Suribachi, how a group near him kneeled in the sand as if in deep reverence; the sailor who told of the Christian burials at sea off his ship’s side of some of the 6824 Marines and Navy men killed in action; the Marine who quickly broke down in tears when all he could say was that he came ashore and fell onto the dead body of one of his friends; the Marine who related he was but six feet away from Rosenthal when he snapped the historic photo; the Marine who said the only way he could have left the island before it was secured was to have been wounded as he was.  My wife Linda commented how fit and alert they were although they ranged in age from eighty four to ninety years young. They were extraordinarily articulate and their pride in being Marines and sailors came through loud and clear.

The afternoon ended with a showing of the movie “Sands of Iwo Jima” starring John Wayne. The last time I had seen this movie was almost thirty years ago. I remember it well. I am a double leg amputee from Vietnam War wounds and thirty years ago my artificial legs were not as comfortable as they are today so every day when I returned from work I was in the habit of removing my legs and using a wheel chair around my home. My then six year old daughter Christi came and sat on my lap for the last part of the movie and thus ensued one of those unforgettable father daughter memories. When it was over, she wanted to discuss what she had seen. She asked a series of questions. First, “Was that movie about a war?” I answered in the affirmative as I did when she queried, “Wasn’t it in a war where you were hurt?” Next she asked, “Was the war in the movie like your war when you were hurt?” I replied whimsically, “No, we had no music in my war.” Whereupon she stepped back and completed our conversation by very seriously declaring, “Well OK, the next time you go to war, I want to go with you, but I will wait in the car.” Memories such as this are priceless!

None of the Marines or sailors, to whom I listened with rapt attention, often with tears running down my cheeks, heard music unless it was Taps at the burials at sea, and had no place to wait out the battle. They were there as young American patriot warriors just doing their jobs, most of them never expecting to be on that Majestic stage sixty six years later. The setting was perfect because they were in fact very MAJESTIC men, much more majestic than all the royalty of centuries past who waited out the battles to which they marched off the flowers of their nation’s youth. Our fourteen special guests all performed royally and proudly. It was an afternoon never to be forgotten, a true family reunion, pregnant with passion, emotion, tears, and laughter. Almost made me wish I had become a Marine. Almost, but not quite, for this proud army guy who hopes my daughters someday will be a part of Daughters of the Vietnam War to remember likewise the sacrifices of my fellow Vietnam comrades.